


A Hint of Pink

by overworkedunderwhelmed



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Identity Reveal, Motorbikes and Mistakes, Necessary Puns, Post-Feast, Season 3 Spoilers, Unnecessary Puns, post-desperada
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2020-10-27 03:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overworkedunderwhelmed/pseuds/overworkedunderwhelmed
Summary: When Chat Noir finds out who has beenrevving his enginesall along, he can’t help but try toturn overa new leaf with his Lady.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started on [Tumblr](https://overworkedunderwhelmed.tumblr.com/post/187886508979/a-hint-of-pink) but will be continuing here.
> 
> Thanks to Yunyin, Bridgetinerabbit, Enberlight, and Kellarhi for their brainstorming and beta reading help!

“My Dear _Marinetta,_”

Marinette and Tikki grimaced, blinking over at one another...

“She wants to come for a visit?” Tikki blinked again, peering back at the screen. 

Marinette exhaled loudly. “As disastrous as last Birthday was, I’m not exactly sure what to expect from Nonna Gina’s visits.”

But as they read on it was clear that her parents _must _have interceded a bit. 

Even in the tone of her letter, Nonna Gina was far more careful. She was very clear, telling her when she was set to arrive so Marinette could plan the time accordingly.

Well, at least as well as a superhero _could…_

While her Nonna still insisted upon taking Marinette around with her when she came into town, she’d already prioritized finding far more age appropriate activities to appeal to her young teen granddaughter. Top of her list for her Fashion Design inclined Granddaughter: to cruise out in style to the shopping district of her choice!

Marinette could hardly contain her enthusiasm, whirling around in her chair.

“Wait, Marinette!” Tikki chirped, excitedly. “There’s more!”

Her Nonna had even promised to give her a motorcycle if she kept her grades up once she reached University age. She even wanted to work with her to help her be ready for that responsibility when the time came, by getting her through the license process and letting her practice when she came to visit before then.

Marinette slapped her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing aloud. “What better than a motorcycle to help set a fashion statement once I make it through University?”

Tikki grinned conspiratorially, her own creative juices already percolating. “And who’s to say you can’t get a solid jump on designing stylish and practical gear, well before any of your peers.”

Within a few minutes of the fateful e-mail’s arrival, Marinette already had a plan for a suit.

It had only taken a short brainstorming session between the pair of them to determine how to best emulate the thinner shielding aspects of their suits -- It wouldn’t do for Ladybug to be lost to Paris if something happened to her on the ride after all -- then she set to work, scraping together the fabric bits to make an outfit for herself to rival her Grandmother’s. 

* * *

A few weeks after, a shiny black and white helmet arrived from Gina, shipped from whatever parts unknown she was traveling. 

But hardly even a week had passed since that first email before Marinette had decked out a black biker outfit all on her own. She’d tinkered with the designs, and the accent colors. 

When she couldn’t trust that her own signature would be visible in this prototype version version, she made ie her own by weaving a hint of pink in to reinforce the seams.

* * *

In fact, everything had been all ready to go for her Grandmother’s next visit, when the Sentimonster Feast had been Akumatized, only amping up his ability to terrorize the whole of Paris.

Without a thought -- and without a Kwami to remind her -- Marinette tore up the stairs, grabbing the helmet and the gear ready and waiting in her wardrobe, before scrambling outside to tear down Paris’s streets on her bicycle.

There were very few citizens who dared to draw close to test Feast’s ravenous appetite. Fewer still knew that Ladybug was hiding behind the motorcycle helmet...and even they had had near enough close calls to have forgotten much more than the fact that Ladybug had asked for their help.

* * *

After Paris was safe once more, Marinette shed her gear, to be forgotten in her closet after a long day of helping Master Fu move the last of his belongings from his home.

Her Grandmother’s next visit wasn’t for months after all... 

* * *

But months had that funny problem of flying away in an instant -- especially with the endless hustle and bustle of school, and superheroics, and saving all of her friends, and designing for most of them on the side -- without leaving enough time for her to remember to replace that outfit gathering dust in the back of her closet.

Months that did nothing to blunt Marinette’s blind panic when the day finally came due -- all without a new outfit on hand.

Marinette -- being Marinette -- panicked.

Tikki sighed. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Marinette. There wasn’t even a single picture that hit the Ladyblog.”

Marinette had fussed and fretted, pacing the full length of her room ten times over. But eventually she gave in, letting herself enjoy the rushing wind as Gina wove them through the crowded streets, and over to the fashion district for a shopping trip.

She’d had so much fun, buying a lovely necklace that she could wear with a formal dress she’d been planning (and could easily travel back home on the bike) -- and doing a fair bit of research that guaranteed she’d be making Gina’s next bike gear herself as a Christmas present, that they both had lost track of time.

Much to Marinette’s relief, not one _citizen _had noticed her outfit, not when she wasn’t in a mad dash through Paris…

But she’d missed a very anxious pair of glowing green eyes, fretting from above. 

* * *

Eyes that had gotten close enough to recall her outfit, the details of the helmet and the pink accents etched into his memory. He could make out even the tiniest detail in the dwindling light of dusk. 

Chat Noir frowned, changing course on a dime. He couldn’t be sure what was up...only that perhaps Ladybug would need his help. Had Hawkmoth or Mayura stolen her Miraculous? Had he missed the signs of an Akuma? Had Master Fu had even more secrets he’d been keeping?

Chat Noir didn’t hesitate, bounding from roof to roof to catch up as the adrenaline and fear coursed through his veins. He didn’t _dare _let her down. 

Not again.

_Never _again.

Chat only slowed his pace vaulting across the space between rooftops, dipping beneath the chimney line, as the motorcycle chugged to a halt outside a very familiar building.

One that only grew more familiar to his rapidly widening eyes as the rider he’d been following lifted the helmet from her head, shaking out her dark hair as the driver parked the bike. 

Recognition struck true, as Marinette beamed up at her Grandmother with that disarming smile, absently repairing the mussed pigtails as she followed her Grandmother back inside.

Chat Noir flopped onto the rooftop, heart struggling not to thud out of his chest. 

He knew his Bugaboo was cool... but _this_? This only confirmed to him she was worlds out of his league...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art by [Lunian](https://lunian.tumblr.com/post/189535107884/commission-for-overworkedunderwhelmed-based-on).


	2. Chapter 2

Adrien Agreste was stumped, prowling around his room with every ounce of hard-won, catlike grace he possessed while he puzzled out what to do to get _his Lady’s_ attention. 

To win _Marinette’s_ affections...

Only… she was usually the one who came up with the plan.

_She _was the one who is unfailingly cool under pressure 

Sure, he had recklessness and spontaneity… But neither of those was working for him. At least not so far as reaching her heart.

Adrien raked his fingers through his heavily wind mussed hair. 

Plagg grinned unrepentantly as he peered up over the lip of the trash can. “So she really was just a _friend_, huh?”

Adrien scowled darkly at his Kwami. “And you knew all along, didn't you? From that first day?”

Plagg scoffed. “Not _all _along. After you both de-transformed in the middle of the Dark Owl for sure… But I _was _paying attention. You humans haven't changed that much over time. I can’t help that you’ve been so sheltered you couldn't put two and two together.”

Adrien sighed, slumping wearily back down to the couch. “I guess I am pretty hopeless, huh?”

“Sure,” Plagg confirmed, without malice. “But there was also the way she acted with you before you apologized that told me there was a lot more to _Marinette. _ At least,before she clammed up around you…”

Adrien closed his eyes, reaching out absently to hug a pillow for comfort. “I guess she really must have been thrown by my Father, huh?”

The Kwami’s glowing green eyes narrowed speculatively. “_Purr_haps…”

Adrien grinned, despite himself. 

“You really ought to just bring her a big wheel of cheese.” Plagg beamed back. “Surefire way to a Ladybug’s heart.”

Chuckling ruefully, Adrien let his head rest back against the couch cushions. “Something tells me she wouldn’t enjoy a large wheel of Camembert any more than I would.”

“Your loss,” Plagg chided, gnawing noisily into a solid chunk of cheese.

“I know better now than to distract her while we’re battling.” Adrien mused aloud. “It’s not surprising with all the homework and the extra projects she takes on that she doesn’t like to really stick around after battles and patrols...”

Plagg kept mum, but was clearly watching him, none too quietly.

“It’s so weird, though. She was so sure that ‘her friend Adrien’ would be a good fit for Sass.” He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to block out the memories of that failure. “But she still keeps me at an arm’s length when she’s Marinette.”

Plagg wheezed a little, coughing as a hunk of cheese must have gone down the wrong pipe. 

“When I’ve been around Marinette in the mask, she thought that Chat Noir was cool. With Evillustrator… and Glaciator… and Gamer, too...” He let the pillow fall down into his lap.

“Did she though?” Plagg cleared his throat, still coughing a bit. 

“Enough so that she’d claimed to be in love with me…” Adrien defended adamantly. 

“Kid…” Plagg started, with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know how to tell you this…”

Adrien’s brows furrowed, when realization landed hard. Even his cataclysm hadn’t hurt so much. “Oh…” he breathed, shakily. “I nearly had figured it out then, didn’t I.”

Plagg nodded. “She _had _to try to throw you off. Tikki would have drilled that into her head.”

Dropping his head into his hands, Adrien felt defeated. “I’ve tried everything, Plagg. Poetry, flowers, candles, kisses, posing, acrobatics, direct confessions… and none of that worked.”

Plagg patted his head. “If it makes you feel any better, kid. I don’t think you have tried everything.”

Adrien glanced up—his eyes gleamed as he held fast to the glimmer of hope lingering in his heart.

Plagg winced. “I just know that she isn’t _entirely _immune to you.”

His hand covered his mouth—Adrien was up, pacing again restlessly. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have let me kiss her after the battle with Oblivio…”

Adrien halted again. “Only… Marinette would have forgotten all about her crush…”

Plagg’s gaze turned calculating. “You wouldn’t happen to have _any idea_ who that might be… would you?”

Adrien frowned, scrubbing his hands over his face as he looked towards the clock. It was much later than he’d thought. “I dunno. Luka seemed the most likely… but she had only given Sass to him after I had suggested it.”

Plagg nodded, following as Adrien padded over to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He leaned over the sink to wash his face.

“Well... if she _was _dating the musician, surely you would have heard something about it from your little reporter friend, right?”

Eyes wide, Adrien peered over at Plagg. “I think so.”

Plagg’s smirk grew self-satisfied as he hovered beside him, cleaning off his paws. “Then maybe she can give you a hint here…”


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Adrien prepared himself for school; a young man on a mission.

He still didn’t have any idea on how to win Marinette over—not yet anyways.

But he did know that he couldn’t let on to Nino. 

Before he’d finally managed to sleep, the thought had bounced around in his mind. Who better to ask than Nino for information about Marinette since he'd known her a lot longer than most of their classmates? 

And, as a close friend, he was sure to be on his side...

But the sunrise had been _illuminating_...

Nino would _definitely _pick on him. 

Adrien had been all too recklessly confident before, when Nino had succumbed to his own heavy dose of nerves while trying to confess his _own_ ill-fated crush on Marinette.

On the same day when he’d nearly lost Ladybug to the jaws of an Akumatized Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Adrien could deal with that good-natured joking later…

_If_ he ever managed to win her over.

But until then? He needed to keep his heartache to himself if he had any hope of being whatever Marinette needed, on either side of the mask.

So, not yet. There would be no advice from Nino. Not until he was sure something—anything—might work.

“So if you’re not going to ask Nino, what were you planning to do?” Plagg inquired, curious as he loaded up his school bag.”

“Well,” Adrien started. “I do have one advantage whoever holding Marinette’s heart _doesn’t _have.”

“And, what’s that, Romeo?”

“Alya’s ear.” Grinning, Adrien zipped up most of the bag. “Who better to ask for a hint on how to get Marinette’s attention. There’s hardly anyone else who could know Ladybug's civilian side better than her.”

Plagg snorted. “She might be able to give you a clue about how to get Marinette's attention, but I’m not sure you’ll be able to do it subtly.”

Adrien pouted, gesturing for Plagg to slip back inside his bag before he opened the door of his room. “I can be subtle…”

Plagg just cackled, before heading down into the darkness to take a nap. “Be sure to tell me how that goes later.”

* * *

Peering out the car window as the familiar blur of Parisian streets and shops rushed by, Adrien let the doubts creep in.

There were very few people he’d ever seen Marinette hang around. He knew Ladybug had a long standing crush, but knowing who she was _now_ just made that small fact so much more confusing. 

Kagami seemed to have read Marinette as interested in Luka. He hadn’t been in the picture for very long, and it seemed like Ladybug had always been nothing short of professional with him. 

And, while it was clear to him that _Luka _was interested in Marinette… there wasn’t much difference between how Marinette acted with Luka, and how she acted around himself. 

He’d mulled the thought over as he trudged up the steps to the classroom, quietly puzzling over each of the empty chairs as the other students slowly filed in.

Math was usually his strong suit… but somehow all the numbers and the probabilities didn’t exactly add up. Ladybug had been pushing Chat away for a while now, and even Adrien had only met Juleka’s big brother only a few months back. Luka suddenly didn’t seem likely to be Marinette’s crush...

Within the class, outside of himself, the only other boy Marinette had spent any amount of time with was... 

What if the one Marinette had developed a crush on was Nino? 

Maybe she just wasn’t acting on those feelings because Nino was enamoured with _her best friend_?

What if Marinette felt just as hurt as he’d been feeling, every time she watched her own friends interact? 

Adrien rested his chin atop his arms, struggling not to pout. He irrationally thought about the times Marinette had been able to spend alongside Nino—perhaps times that had allowed her feelings to slowly blossom. He’d already felt left out of the loop because his Father would only rarely let him out to hang out with his friends…

But this hurt was only made more acute.

His stomach flopped bitterly. It made him feel ill to resent either of his friends—who just _happened _to walk into class talking with each other animatedly as Alya was scrolling through something on her phone. He made sure to give them his best smile and small return wave as they paused briefly to greet him, then sat down as class was coming to order.

Without a doubt, Marinette was absolutely the kind of person to put her friends’ needs before her own. When he’d risked asking Ladybug who she was pining for on that rooftop, it was clear she was struggling with some unrequited feelings. He’d understood that himself only too well.

No one could help liking whomever they liked. And if she liked Nino, that could explain not being able to go for it. 

This was definitely not a topic he should bring up with Nino—no way. So his only true other option would be talking to Alya… unless he wanted to try and ask Marinette more directly.

Only… his nerves were acting up in the worst sort of way.

The hairs at the back of his neck prickled, reminding him just how close she really was.

If he could only turn around…

* * *

He couldn’t grab a moment alone with Alya—away from either Nino or Marinette—until their lunch break. 

It had taken every ounce of courage just to muster the words. “How do I get a girl’s attention.”

Alya’s brows practically hit the ceiling. “Any particular girl in mind?” 

Adrien grew silent, allowing that to be his answer as he struggled to regain some semblance of control over his composure.

When he dared to glance back to her, Alya smirked before quickly replying. "Swimsuits. _Lots _of Swimsuits.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

Alya’s grin sharpened as she rapped her fingers against her upper arm. “Sorry.” She murmured, sounding not the least bit apologetic. “I just spent the past few hours looking at the swimsuit sketches Marinette was working on.”

Adrien ducked his head, his cheeks instantly combusting to an incriminating crimson.

He blew out a shaky breath, fingertips ruffling the styled hair just above the nape of his neck.. Here he thought it had been hard to talk _before… _

Adrien shook his head. As Chat Noir, he’d already tried to appeal to Ladybug’s aesthetic sense. It was close to one of their first few battles—maybe even against Stormy Weather—that he’d touted just how good he looked in a swimsuit.

Besides, Adrien mused as he fussed with his hair. His last modelling campaign—the ad for Gabriel’s new fragrance line—had honestly been a bit of a nightmare. 

He’d even been brazen enough to ask Marinette to hide him, behind her far smaller stature. Superheroine to the core, she’d done her best to shield him.

But even that hadn’t been enough. Whole crowds of people had stampeded, chasing them both through the streets of Paris. He’d even had to give his own bodyguard the slip… which hadn’t gone so well for any of them...

Worse still, the social media attacks against Marinette afterwards had been particularly vicious. It was only an adept bit of PR direct from Gabriel that had finally quieted any ire in her direction.

He coughed. “I’m not _trying _to get mobbed again. At least not if I can help it. But… what if I _did _just want to get one particular girl’s attention?” 

Arms crossed over her chest, Alya narrowed her eyes, carefully trying to pull the threads on each and every one of his secrets. Years of modelling training or not, Adrien fidgeted under the scrutiny.

“Like… well, someone like Marinette.” He mumbled quietly, clearing his throat and peering over at the crowd quickly filling out the halls. “If I wanted to get _her _attention… how would I even manage that?”

Alya, thankfully, took pity on him. She patted him on the shoulder “Well, Sunshine. You’re on the right track. _You _just need to figure out what would work for the girl in question.”

Adrien nodded, eyes trained on a certain pair of pigtails as she walked down the street and out of view.

“Honestly, though.” Alya continued on, as if he hadn’t been remotely distracted from the question he’d dared to ask. “Marinette’s a budding fashion designer, right? She’ll pay extra attention to new trends and fabrics.”

Alya tilted her head, tapping a finger to her lips thoughtfully. “When was the last time you wore something different to school?”

Adrien blinked.

Now, that was a very good question.

* * *

“Do you have anything… new for me to wear, Father?” Adrien politely spoke as softly as he could while still managing to be heard from across the lengthy formal dining table.

“I’m very busy, Adrien.” Gabriel intoned. “I’m not sure you appreciate just how much effort goes into creating a new seasonal line.”

“Then, you don’t have anything new for me to model for the upcoming season?”

“Not at present, no.”

Adrien slumped back into his seat, every trace of carefully coached poise and posture ebbing away. “Maybe I could just ask her if there was something I could model…”

Silver brows arched above the folder Nathalie had handed to him. "Adrien... you do understand that your modeling contract with me is iron-clad, do you not?"

Pointedly, Gabriel set aside his paperwork.

Adrien frowned. “It’s just… I’m not sure how else to get her attention.” 

“Her?” With a world weary sigh, Gabriel massaged his temples. Expending energy each day to fend off two teenage superheroes was draining enough to his composure. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to also tackle his own son’s burgeoning teenage hormones on top of everything else…

His son peered down at the table, barely controlling and masking his blush even from 15 meters away. “My friend Marinette?” Adrien fidgeted. “You remember her from your competition, right?”

Gabriel templed his fingers, watching his son carefully. “Of course.” 

“Well… she’s been in a bit of a creative rut lately.” Adrien’s eyes strayed down to his hands. “Another of our friends thought that maybe we could work together to pull her back out of it… everyone else is trying to do something, too. But I thought… that maybe you’d have some idea what might help to inspire another creative mind…”

Adrien’s lower lip trembled slightly.

Gabriel regarded him coolly. While Adrien’s aptitude for dissembling clearly required some fine tuning, it was clear he’d inherited Emilie’s propensity for tugging his heartstrings...

Gabriel coughed, nodding over to Nathalie. “I’m sure Nathalie can check with the marketing and creative groups, to see if anything new is nearing completion.” 

Adrien beamed, standing up from his cleaned plate. “Thank you, Father!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kellarhi for beta reading.
> 
> I have seen the finale, but I promise: no spoilers here. :)

Sometimes… a Kwami had to do what a Kwami had to do; it wasn’t like Adrien was leaving him any choice.

Plagg flew back and forth, pacing in the moonlight as he weighed his options. He’d lived for literal millennia and he had rarely felt so impatient.

As usual, Adrien’s Father was a _disappointment_. Despite all his promises, nearly a whole week had passed without any sign of new apparel or scheduled photo shoots in the offing.

“He’ll have something for me soon, Plagg. I believe in my Father.” Adrien had assured daily, leg bouncing just a little too fast and betraying his fears. “We just have to wait a little bit longer…”

Nodding silently, Plagg bit back his disbelief with a creamy dollop of Camembert and bided his time.

Hardly even a day later, Plagg was rapidly growing weary. He wasn’t even sure he’d mind their typical early morning wake up if it meant that Adrien would stop moping through every spare moment at home—Adrien’s pining was well past obnoxious during school and on patrol. 

Neither one of them were sleeping well in his room. Not with the tag-team of endless pacing at all hours…

And at school, neither Adrien _or_ Marinette would dare to let their gaze linger too long… especially when there was any chance they’d be caught.

Plagg sighed at the all too frustrating recollection. They were dense, the _pair _of them.

But in just the past day, Adrien had grown increasingly frazzled, not even paying attention to the clothes coming out of his closet; the maids had gathered up his shirts, since they periodically inspected them for wear and repair. The change in routine left Adrien even more panicked, forcing him to scour his closet for a suitable replacement to his usual attire. 

It had caused more chaos than usual. Plagg was forced to ditch his early morning cheese gnoshing session in the trash can to help Adrien madly dash through the closet and spot a suitable shirt replacement.

The closest thing they found was a prototype shirt his Father had made; it was a half shade off, and a bit tighter around his shoulders than when it was first crafted, considering the continual exercise he’d been getting.

The ride into school was as quiet as usual, between the taciturn driver and Adrien’s breathless relief.

Plagg sighed heavily, taking note of Adrien’s anxious green eyes darting around the car when they drew close to the scent of the bakery.

* * *

Though he certainly could have used the time for a nap, Plagg didn’t usually dare to slip up out of Adrien’s bag for long. Today, he managed to sneak out and into a ceiling grate above the objects of his irritation during a test, peeking down at them at odd intervals.

Marinette turned over her paper, clearly finished with her test and dreamily eyeing Adrien as usual. Or, so he’d thought at first… before he’d spotted the analytical furrowed brow and the frown on her face. 

Plagg drew back, to get a better view of Ladybug sans mask. Until it became clear that she was not looking at the boy directly, but puzzling over his shirt, as clearly as if it were as out of place as any other Akuma in Paris.

Her curiosity was the first hope he’d had in days… one niggling little hope, dancing out of his paws like the laser pointer Adrien occasionally pulled out to amuse them both.

Pigtails? Oh, she was _definitely _watching. 

Plagg grinned, thoroughly pleased as he snuck down, and dove back into Adrien’s bag when all the students headed up to the teacher’s desk to hand in their exams. 

It seemed that his time was _now_. He spent the rest of his “nap time” in Adrien’s bag, plotting and planning, which wasn’t _exactly _his specialty. However… right now, a little chaos might just do the trick.

* * *

Stumbling out of the shower, half awake, Adrien managed to go through the motions of getting dressed without much thought. He’d been restless enough last night that sleep had been elusive.

Half asleep, he tugged on his clothes and slumped wearily down into the chair in the dining room. Half hearted, he poked at his breakfast waiting for Nathalie’s daily schedule rundown to finish.

She looked a little bored, prattling off the usual schedule details—nothing he’d been looking forward to doing—until suddenly her nose scrunched up and she drew back.

“Adrien…” Her eyes narrowed behind the glasses. “Maybe you should head back to your room and change.”

Blinking, Adrien looked down. “This is my usual outfit.”

Nathalie winced. “I don’t think I am the right person to discuss this with you, but sometimes, boys your age start to need to… well… _bathe_ a bit more frequently…”

Adrien frowned. “I took a shower this morning…” He murmured, before sniffing himself self-consciously...

...and placing the very familiar, very _overpowering_ odor of Camembert. Aged even a bit more than his nose had grown accustomed to.

Nathalie’s eyes searched towards the heavens—towards either some deity, or madcap employer (only she knew)—seeking silent guidance. “Perhaps... a second one wouldn’t go amiss this morning. I… will make arrangements accordingly.”

* * *

Adrien hustled back to his room, cheeks flushed. He hopped into the shower _again_, wondering for the millionth time what he’d ever done to be stuck with a kwami who ate such rancid smelling food. 

When he emerged—entirely sure that he’d scrubbed away every trace of cheese—he picked up his discarded clothes. The smell was definitely coming from the pocket of his shirt. He had always been _so _careful. It wasn’t like Plagg to leave even a scrap of Camembert untouched, but it didn’t even occur to Adrien that anything could possibly be awry.

Still frowning, Adrien stormed across the bathroom to just grab his shirt from yesterday. Surely, the cleaning staff hadn’t been in yet to pick up yesterday’s clothes.

Dumbfounded, he couldn’t find any sign of it in his hamper as he tossed in the shirt that had alarmed Nathalie enough to send him to change.

“Plagg…” Adrien whisper shouted as he scoured the room. “Have you seen my…?”

He trailed off as he spotted Plagg, burrowed into a nest of white scraps, and sharpening his Kittenish claws.

“Plagg!” Adrien shouted, aghast as he watched Plagg gleefully ripping the seams into shreds.

Plagg cackled merrily, flitting back over to devour a tiny chunk of Camembert. “What? Do you see a scratching post around here? It’s in my nature to destroy things. Can’t blame me for being bored…”

Adrien scowled, stalking over to his closet to grab a clean overshirt.

Yanking the closet open, he gagged as the overpowering aroma sent him lurching over to his knees. He was aghast at the nested pile of white overshirts, stained and sharply pungent from generous, greasy smears of cheese embedded throughout..

“Plagg!” Adrien hissed. 

Plagg snorted. “I _might _be to blame for that…”

Pinching his nose, Adrien daintily lifted one shirt up by an unstained hem. “No amount of Ladybug’s Lucky Charms could even fix this…”

“That’s what you get for taking 20 minute showers. I _could _have eaten that, though. Oh, the sacrifices I make for you, kid…”

“Sacrifices?? What’s wrong with you? I don’t even think I have another overshirt from Father somewhere…” Frantic, Adrien plugged his nose and began rooting furiously through the rest of his closet.

“I guess I still have this one shirt from Chloe… but it’s black.” 

She had gifted it to him for his birthday last year. Except for the shiny gold buttons and the obvious fact that it was not one of Gabriel’s shirts, it was at least a functional possibility—if one that would probably get _some _sort of reaction from his father…

But having his Father mad at him seemed like it might be counter productive.

Plagg’s eyes glowed in the dim light, as he cackled. “Oh, I think that will do nicely…”


	5. Chapter 5

“Sir,” Nathalie began, clearing her throat for added emphasis after the elevator platform whirred to a noisy halt. She strode down into the basement. “I think it might be time to expedite the schedule on Adrien’s new wardrobe.”

Frowning, Gabriel drew back from tending his butterflies. “A problem, Nathalie?”

“Well, Adrien is getting a bit older.” She readjusted her glasses, pointedly not meeting his flinty gaze. “Several of his shirts appear to be getting a bit tighter at the very least.” She trailed off, hoping the oblivious man would catch wise to her subtleties.

Nonplussed, Gabriel peered back down, tending the flowers to foster his Akuma. “I think he can wait a week at least. Not even I grew that fast.”

“It isn’t just that he’s growing quite rapidly…”

“Oh?” Flower clippers stopped mid-clip.

“If I may be frank?”

His brows rose. “Of course…” 

“Puberty seems to be set to hit Adrien full force. The Laundry staff are up in arms, and seem primed for revolt.”

Gabriel just gaped, as Nathalie sped on.

“I’ve already given the lot of them bonuses, and I make sure they clean out all of his gym bags just in case....” She grimaced at the recollection. “I’m not even sure that ill-fated cologne line could have spared him the embarrassment. Helping you fight off misguided teenage superheroes is one thing,” Nathalie sighed. “But there are just some things that you frankly do not pay me well enough to handle.”

Gabriel winced. “Right. 

* * *

Though he had come into class early, Adrien was stuck fidgeting, anxiously awaiting Marinette’s inevitable last-minute-to-the-bell sprint up to her desk.

Each day had been harder to contain himself, and it was taking every ounce of focus to not turn around and stare at Marinette any time she sat behind him. 

He’d already liked her. Far too much before he’d even had the slightest clue.

He should have known. Should have suspected Ladybug’s clever hand in the ruse to keep her identity secret… should have known when Plagg hadn’t given him a solid no.

Speaking of Plagg, his nuisance of a kwami was much more of a troublemaker than usual, and Adrien wasn’t sure what had gotten into him.

Adrien’s eyes slipped down to check under his desk once more, trying to be sure that Plagg was safely hidden away.

Alya had noticed Adrien’s anxious energy—the distracted way he’d been acting for days—and he’d heard her commenting to Nino about it. Her keen eye watching his out of sorts behavior coupled with his mischievous kwami was a recipe for disaster; the last thing he needed right now was to have any more of his secrets spilling out.

At least… not until he was ready.

And only to the proper ears.

Of course, that just meant he was watching while Plagg inevitably crept up, stealing not-so-furtive glances over at the door from his usual hiding place in his bag.

There wasn’t time to sneak away to the bathroom to remind his Kwami exactly how precarious a position they were both in.

With a heavy sigh, Adrien casually—_clumsily—_tipped the bag over; he knew that Plagg would hold on, or stealthily scramble back in.

He bent down, frowning as he tucked the spilled items back into his bag. His voice came quietly, in a hushed whisper. “Plagg, get back in the bag!”

Plagg pouted but obliged.

He’d barely rocked back on his heels when, satisfyingly, Marinettte scrambled in, pigtails bouncing in her wake. She stopped, stunned and staring back at him.

Self-conscious, he stood up, dusting off his knees and re-adjusting his shirt as her eyes slipped over his form.

Her visual assessment was entirely unexpected, but Marinette didn’t utter a single word. The moment was broken by a high pitched squeal. 

“That is _much _better than that _drab _white shirt he usually wears, isn’t it?” Chloe gloated to nobody in particular, sneering with delight. “Oh! I _knew _you would wear it eventually, _Adrikins_!”

He flinched slightly as Chloe drew near, slipping all too easily into his personal space and throwing an arm about his lower back. “Look, we almost match!”

Marinette simply blinked as she slipped past, slowly sinking down into her desk chair. Though _she _had stayed silent, Alya seemed eager not to let her curiosity die a slow, unsatisfied death. “Why the new shirt, Sunshine?”

Adrien stepped free of Chloe’s hold, smiling ruefully. “Well… I seem to have picked up a cat.”

“Oh!” Marinette gasped, looking more closely at him now. The others made surprised exclamations as well, but his eyes were mainly trained on her. 

Chloe’s expected scoffing about how pets were ridiculous didn’t exactly land as well as his old friend might have hoped.

“That’s great, dude!” Nino extended his fist out for a fist bump. “I know how boring you keep saying it is in that big room all by yourself.”

Frustrated as the attention had been pulled away from her, Chloe pouted, crossing her arms over her chest and flouncing back across the aisle to her own seat.

“Well, the company is great.” Adrien’s fingers slipped up to dust the nape of his neck as he ducked down into his chair. “But this little guy somehow keeps making the _biggest _messes.”

“What kind of cat is it? Is it a kitten?” Alya asked with interest.

Adrien peered back over his shoulder.

“He’s not small…” Adrien hedged, trying to keep his eyes from straying accusingly back to his bag. “But he definitely thinks—and acts like—he’s underfed.”

There was a soft, sweet smile that danced across Marinette’s lips that enchanted him.

Rose’s enthusiasm for all things small and sweet was infectious. “Ohh! What color is he?”

Adrien blinked in surprise. “It’s a black cat.” 

Marinette’s lips curved more sharply. “That could explain those messes.”

Alya snorted. “Speaking of, how much mischief could a little cat manage to get up to that would make you change your shirt?”

Adrien shrugged, then reached down to snag the shredded shirt from his bag. “More than you might think. I mean, he somehow got food all over my clean laundry… and then applied his claws to this...” He lifted the pitiful shirt up for them to see.

His eyes darted from the tattered looking edges of his shirt to the movement behind it; Marinette was up and out of her chair, closely inspecting the nearly clinical tear in the fabric.

“Huh.” She mulled aloud. “I can fix this.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in wonder. “You can?”

“I think so.” She murmured, silently seeking—and gaining—his permission before she lifted the cloth from his hands. 

She held the cloth up from multiple angles. “It looks like your cat managed to mostly pull out the hem. Which is great?”

“Great?” He echoed. 

She nodded, eyes narrowing into the sharp focus puzzling over a solvable problem with every one of the hints dropping into place with her sweet satisfaction slipping in. “The fabric itself isn’t torn, just the threads. Which means it might take a bit of sewing and hemming, but it can probably be restored to normal.”

It took every ounce of his being to keep up his model facade and _not _rest his arms against her desk to dazedly beam up at her as he had from that first day when she’d called out Hawkmoth despite her own fears.

Instead, he sighed. “What do you need to fix it?”

Marinette blinked, blushing a little as she pulled herself out of creative zone. “Oh,” She murmured, hand slipping up to cup her cheek. “I _think _I’d have everything I need to fix it at home.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “That would be amazing.”

“Oh!” Marinette puzzled over a bit of fabric. “Was this the one you wore yesterday?” 

He nodded, wrinkling up his nose, suddenly worried that the fabric might smell. “Is that a problem?”

“No…” She frowned. “It’s just… it seemed like it was a little tight around the shoulders.”

There was no one else in the room—not anymore. He knew they were there… he just couldn’t see them.

“If you could come over, I can measure and see if there’s any room to take the fabric out a little.”

Was she _trying _to slip past his carefully crafted defenses?

She was definitely succeeding.

“Maybe for lunch?” she suggested.

Adrien slipped his phone out of his bag, murmuring a hasty “Let me check,” as his fingers flew across the screen, slipping off a note to Nathalie.

_Can I have lunch at school today?_

The answer from Nathalie was nearly immediate. _That’s acceptable. Just be ready for a photoshoot after classes this afternoon._

Adrien beamed. “That works for me.”

Her sunny smile shone back at him.

“Well,” Alya chimed in, smirking, as his gaze was torn away from Marinette. “Sounds like it’s a date.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kellarhi for beta reading.

“Ah! Right on time!” Sabine grinned towards the creaking open front door, as she pulled half of the sandwich fixings from the fridge. “I was just about to make lunch for you, Marinette!”

She blinked at the blond darkening her daughter’s shadow. Marinette hadn’t mentioned anything about company.

This was new... 

Marinette pulled a rueful smile. “Hey, Mom! Mind if we get Adrien some lunch, too? We are going to work on fixing his shirt.”

“Oh.” Adrien lifted the shirt in demonstration, and Sabine’s eyes widened as she took in the ragged looking edge along the bottom hem. “That’s quite a tear there.” 

Adrien shuffled awkwardly in the doorway, until Marinette nodded him in. “I would usually just give it to my father’s staff, honestly. But… well, I have this cat. And Father doesn’t exactly know about it…”

She didn’t miss the twinge of pain in the boy’s eyes when he’d mentioned his father.

She was already half convinced _before_ Adrien brought out the pitiful Kitten eyes. “If he saw the way this shirt looks, he’d only ask questions…”

Marinette was busy watching him, somberly, her eyes slipping back and forth between her friend and her mother.

“It’s bad enough that his Father won’t let anyone come over and visit. But he’s basically by himself… and he can’t even have a _pet_ for company. It’s not even like here—where there’s the bakery below to worry about…”

Sabine beamed at her daughter with pride, amused to see that Marinette had already come up with a workable solution to the problem at hand. Clearly, the two considered this a crisis. Her Tom wasn’t nearly so level headed or practical, so she was often filling that void; it seemed Marinette had definitely picked up a few tricks from her in that regard. 

Although her daughter was generally helpful, Sabine knew there was more than the desire to help fueling the motivation to mend for her friend. She was positive that her daughter had an intense crush on this boy who seemed incredibly oblivious to Marinette’s feelings.

She knew from experience that teenage boys were often a little dense—they’d been the same when she was younger. But _this_ young man? Well... he seemed to have _taken the cake_.

Ruefully, Sabine pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing a smile. There was no denying she’d spent far too long in the bakery some days, with only Tom and his odd sense of humor for company.

“I certainly don’t mind extra company at the house. Unfortunately, I’m not as adept with a needle as Marinette so I don’t think I can really help there.” Sabine tilted her head thoughtfully, testing the waters. “And the lunchtime rush is due to start in a little while, so Tom is going to need a hand.” She looked between the two teens. “Do you think the two of you could manage to put some food together?”

Adrien smiled sweetly. “I’m not that used to helping in the kitchen… but if you could show me what to do…”

Marinette beamed over at Adrien, before half sprinting towards the stairs. "Great! If you can help mom, that'll give me a few moments to get all my supplies out and ready." She halted on the stairs. “Oh…” She blinked, nervously nibbling at her lip. “Can you bring lunch upstairs when it’s ready? Bringing down the sewing machine and all my random supplies would take up more time than it’s worth, so we can both eat up there while I work instead.”

Sabine smiled at Adrien, more than a little curious to see his reaction. 

Much to her surprise, his eyes had chased Marinette as she raced up the stairs.

She wasn’t about to embarrass the poor thing. But perhaps Marinette’s little crush wasn’t nearly so hopeless as she’d started to fear.

He shook his head, plastering a serene smile on his face—one she’d seen often enough on her daughter’s walls.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as she assembled the usual fare for herself and her husband. But Adrien seemed a bit… indecisive, puzzling over the whole host of meats and cheeses. 

Sabine saw how he was floundering over some of the simplest things. Subtly, she passed him four slices of sandwich bread. 

“Sorry! It’s… I just realized how little I get to sit with my friends at lunch.” A soft blush burnished his cheeks. “And I wasn’t sure what Marinette would like…”

It took quite a lot for her to hold back the instinct to hug the poor thing; he was so different than Marinette’s best friend. Alya had always been so strong minded and willful that Sabine’s maternal instincts never kicked in—except in sheer protectiveness when she’d seen the girl in peril on the news.

Sabine pressed her lips together firmly. She had half a mind to march over to that ostentatious manor and give Adrien’s father a piece of her mind.

But first things first.

She nodded to the stack of ingredients, pointing out Marinette’s favorites, one by one. 

Diligently, Adrien kept up, hurriedly—if clumsily—following her instructions. He was a quick study, though clearly as inexperienced in the kitchen as he’d claimed. But, though he was a little sloppy, he had a fairly deft hand.

It was endearing, watching the whole process. She didn’t get the chance to teach often, not since Marinette herself had been small. 

Sabine wasn’t sure if it was politeness or eagerness to please driving him, but Adrien seemed insistent on making a good impression.

For all his somewhat clumsy piling together, he made a really solid effort, careful to follow each and every one of her instructions—a point which Sabine found terribly endearing. 

“It may also help to have it nicely plated.” Sabine chuckled a bit, making a reference to modelling and presentation that she could only hope would be relevant. “The food has to be good. But if it looks good, too? It can seem even tastier.”

He nodded, watching as she prepared her own plate.

“And,” she winked, whispering a bit this time to impart an extra hint, “whenever Marinette is sure to be a little preoccupied, I tend to cut her sandwiches just so.” She pressed the knife into her own sandwich in demonstration; she first cut it in half, and then turned her blade to make three more cuts, leaving the sandwich in eighths. “You’ll be lucky if she actually thinks to eat without getting distracted. But this way it will be better if she has to race through to finish it at the end.”

* * *

Anxious for his Lady’s approval, Adrien swiftly rushed up the steps, catlike grace flowing more naturally to balance both plates. Making the sandwiches wasn’t much, but it was the only real way he could think of to help Marinette in the moment.

He peered around her room before opting to set one plate down beside her at the machine. She had obviously made good use of the few minutes before he’d come up, as her room looked relatively orderly, and it seemed as if most of the items she would need were already set out. Her hands were busy, making marks with chalk and shifting some of her other tools so they weren’t in the way. He floundered for a place to sit down himself, eventually settling on the chaise. 

He stared in wonder at the focus on her face, her serious expression half a step shy of the all-too-familiar moment where he knew for certain that Ladybug had the battle in the bag.

Her phone was out. Buzzing with periodic notifications. She looked at it accusingly from time to time, occasionally blushing. No doubt it was Alya, all too interested in the “deets”.

But Alya was very sadly wrong. This wasn’t a _date_. Certainly not to Marinette.

Not to his Lady.

But, it was enough for him that she was doing him this favor—that she was, as always, endlessly generous to him on either side of the mask.

Awkwardly unable to help, he shifted his weight, nibbling on one corner of his sandwich. Marinette’s mother definitely knew a thing or two about food; he committed the combination of flavors to memory, as he smiled down at his sandwich.

But Marinette had yet to touch hers, hands occupied with the shirt. 

“I think I need to take a few measurements again first, especially if you need this to last a few more weeks. From what I saw, it’s probably a bit tight to move at your shoulders. I could let those seams out a bit, but that means I’d need to see where the fabric would lie.” 

She finally spun in her chair, standing up and then flicking the fabric in two hands to shake out the wrinkles. She held it up to him expectantly—she obviously wanted him to try it on so she could see exactly where the worst of the trouble areas were.

“I’m not worried about the damage from the cat—not really.” Marinette assured. “I already have the bits chalk marked where I’ll need to re-sew the seams. There may also be places we can hold off altering, but I won’t know until you try this on. And the fabric itself is in solid condition… the thread on the other hand...”

She was actually a little weirded out by how precisely the threads were removed from the seams. "Your... cat did this?"

Adrien turned sideways to slip one arm into the upheld garment, and then the other.

He nodded; Plagg must have made some fairly clean “cuts”. It was very controlled damage—for him. “Afraid so…”

“It’s just...” She held up the edges, inspecting them closely, “it's like the thread just dissolved.”

Adrien’s brows rose, and she shifted around his form to take measurements. Tailoring clothes was an inherently familiar exercise for him, but he was growing increasingly aware of her close proximity.

Not even his near daily interactions with her beside him in a superhero suit had prepared him for feeling so vulnerable. 

She milled around him, furrowed brows likely confirming her suspicions that it definitely needs to be let out some. She asked him to turn around and she measured from shoulder to shoulder, then down his sides...

“You don't think he got akumatized, do you?”

“My _cat_?” Adrien wheezed, as she gently pressed his arms back down to his sides. He shook his head. “I _sincerely _hope not. For the sake of my closet, if nothing else. He’s been eating well and has plenty of space to play. He should be pretty happy, even if I can’t take him outside much.”

She smirked slightly. “I dunno. He seems to be pretty handy. I kind of wish he could get the rest of these stitches out for me.”

Adrien snorted. “Better not to give him any ideas…”

Marinette held her hands out for him to shed the overshirt for the next round of fixes. The material was a little tight, bunching and pulling up the shirt underneath as he dutifully tugged it off. It wasn’t like he _hadn’t_ noticed it was a bit uncomfortable before, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Blushing and breathless over the flash of his briefly exposed skin, she rushed back to her sewing table, ducking back down to her seat as if Hawkmoth himself was on her tail.

She was pink to the tips of her ears… and for the life of him, he had no idea why.

“Are you alright, Marinette?”

“Yep!” She coughed delicately. And then a little less delicately... “I’m just... super thirsty right now.”

“Oh, I did forget the drinks!” With a puzzled shrug, Adrien headed back downstairs to gather drinks for them both. “I’ll be back in a few.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting a little long so I split it into two. The second half is currently about 3 K words, so now that you've all seen the 2000 or so odd words I can focus and re-double my efforts on the back half!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it! Thanks as always to Kellarhi for beta reading!

Marinette smacked her cheeks, willing the relentless warmth to subside. 

She had been doing _so_ well.

But now, she had to focus. Adrien was _counting _on her.

It had been nice… really, really nice with him here, all to herself. 

Without all the others nearby, and with only _her _beside him, he was really relaxed. Even that had gone a long way to putting her heart at ease.

Of course, all it took was a flash of surprisingly well-toned abs, and every ounce of her carefully constructed composure slipped right out the window.

She snuck a few bites of her sandwich. At least if she was busy chewing, it would keep her from saying anything incriminating.

Tikki slipped out of her hiding place, looking over the shirt’s damage. “You’re sure you can fix it, Marinette?”

She swallowed heavily. “_Pretty_ sure. It might need to be a little shorter with this tiny tear, but letting it out a bit around his shoulders should allow for a proper fit.”

Tikki patted her hand. “I’ll stick close for a little extra luck.”

* * *

“I wonder what that was all about.” Adrien mused aloud in a hushed whisper as he padded in his socks back to the kitchen.

Plagg snorted, swooping out from his hiding place beneath Adrien’s shirt. “That was the most amusement I’ve had at lunch with you in some time.”

Anxiously, his eyes slid back over to the open door to Marinette’s room, his hand slipping to the nape of his neck out of habit.

“Hush, Plagg.” Adrien hissed. “She might hear you. Or, her parents might come back up.”

It had taken some doing for Plagg to mask his presence from Marinette while she was checking his measurements, but they’d managed, with her none the wiser. It would have been _so_ _easy_ for Plagg to stay in place and expose their secret to Ladybug.

But surprisingly, Plagg kept the secret up without him asking.

“Relax, kid.” Plagg snickered. “She’s a little preoccupied at the moment.”

He nodded, opening the cabinets to find a glass, then fetched a pitcher of water from the fridge. “Do you think I said something wrong?”

Electric green eyes gleamed. “I don’t think it was anything you _said…_”

But, of course, Plagg wasn’t any more helpful than that. He took advantage of the open refrigerator door to steal inside and grab a choice morsel of cheese.

As soon as the pitcher was returned to the fridge—and Plagg was safely hiding away again—Adrien crept back up the steps.

He noticed a few more bites missing from Marinette’s sandwich, but she’d shifted focus, diligently inserting the last pins along the hem of the shirt, and starting to pick out the seams at the shoulders.

She didn’t even notice his approach until a floorboard creaked beneath his feet, prompting her brows to arch slightly.

With a soft smile at her familiar focus, he set the water beside her. He knew better than to get her way when she was on a creative roll.

“Thank you, Adrien.”

“You know,” He murmured as he slid down to lounge on the chaise. “I thought I would be more irritated that my cat was so destructive. But, it had a definite upside.”

“Oh?” Her gaze trained to his for only a moment before sneaking back to her work. “Why’s that?”

Adrien grinned, taking a quick sip of his own water. “Because I get to spend extra time with you today.” 

Startled, her eyes widened and snapped back to him. “Ouch!’

He jumped to his feet in an instant. “You okay?”

She pinched the tip of a finger before slipping it into her mouth to subdue the pain. “I will be. Probably.”

He grimaced, uncertain what he could really do to take her pain away. “Do you have a first aid kit somewhere?”

She nodded over to the cabinet with the washbasin. “You know… you just can’t say that sort of thing out loud.”

“What?” Blinking, Adrien looked back over his shoulder at her and caught her shaking her finger in the air at him; he quickly turned back to finding her a bandage. “It really _is _nice being here. Much, much better than going back to my house to eat lunch alone.”

She worried her lip. “But now you have your cat, too.”

“I can't exactly bring him down to the dining room. Not without Father finding out about him.” Adrien grinned. “Besides, the conversation here is quite a bit better.”

Plagg definitely kicked him from beneath his shirt.

But the sweet smile that curved Marinette’s lips made it worth the tiny bruise that was sure to form.

* * *

“Honestly…” Marinette sighed, cheeks flushed a bit from his flattery as she tipped the glass of water back over her parched lips. She paused only long enough to swallow as her blue eyes watched him pacing the room. “With as quiet as you are, are you sure you're not half cat, too? No wonder he got into such trouble without you noticing.”

“I learned from the best.” He couldn’t help it—his eyebrows waggled merrily.

Her brows rose before Marinette collapsed into a fit of giggles. “You must be a quick study then.”

He shrugged, growing a bit more somber and subdued. “I try,” he replied.

When her face fell, Adrien winced, but tried to recover the lighter mood with one of his signature smiles. “Father likes things to be pretty quiet. Outside of my piano practice anyways...”

She treated him to a wry grin. “A little more quiet _here _would be nice every once in a while. With the early hours my parents have to keep though, it is sometimes a little lonely here too.”

“You can’t have a pet?”

“There’s not really time for anyone to take care of it during the day. And since the house is connected to the bakery, there’s always a risk that pet might get down into the bakery and cause trouble for my parents…” She looked a little sad, but the expression was gone almost as soon as he’d registered it.

“But if you _could _have one?”

"Oh, I don't know.” She nibbled at her lip, studiously not meeting his eyes as she tried to focus on dialing her machine to the proper thread tension before starting on the lower seam. “I think it would be nice to have something small and cuddle-able. Like a hamster.”

His smittenness rising, Adrien felt himself flush and turned back towards the chaise to recline and finish his lunch. Half a dozen dreams seemed far more possible than they even had an hour before... “A hamster probably _would _be easier…” 

She nodded, tapping the foot pedal and unleashing the electric bobbin to fill the weighty silence. 

A furtive smile crossed his lips, watching and waiting for the silence to slip in again. 

When she pulled the fabric free of the machine to cut the threads, he dared to speak—dared to hope she might be able to assemble the pieces, just as she was doing with his overshirt.

"Or… I suppose, even something small and cute like a rat or a mouse."

In stunned silence, Marinette gaped at him, floundering. 

Adrien pretended not to notice, nibbling carefully on another piece of his sandwich and stifling a moan at the soft, sweet bread with the flakiest hint of a crust. “You know—tiny and clever… but not as likely to get into much trouble.”

She continued looking at him oddly, but refused to rise to his baiting just yet. Marinette was stubborn to her core.

Not that he’d want her to be any other way.

Finally though, she smirked, studiously dropping her eyes back to the machine as she continued her project. “I guess you have a point—although, if there was also cat around, I’m sure there’d be at least _some _trouble. Cats are much too likely to pounce if given the opportunity.” 

“Maybe they wouldn’t work so well together.” Adrien _mew_sed… barely biting back the puns that threatened to slip from his lips. Mentally, he was willing—wanting—her to notice him. “But pouncing can also be playful, and maybe the cat would be particularly good at holding back his claws. Cats _do _like to play, after all.”

“Not all of them,” she whispered, her expression softening. 

He caught the shift, and began to hope, wistfully. 

“Sometimes, they shy away from company.” Her sewing machine whirred softly as she ran more of the stitching through it.

“_Purr_haps...” He mulled aloud, as he finished off the last bite of sandwich. 

She blinked at that… unsure if she heard what she thought she had. She eyed him as he strode over to the desk to set down his now empty plate on a more stable shelf momentarily. He stretched languorously in the sunlight and Marinette’s head tilted in confusion.

“But,” he finally continued, “not all the time.” Adrien beamed over at her.

Pointedly, she looked away, veering her attention back to safer territory—her sewing machine.

Which was probably a good idea anyway; there was only a half an hour until lunch was over, and she still had to fix the fit of his sleeves.

She was far more productive when he didn’t seem to be actively watching her, zoning in with pure, stoic focus, channeling every ounce of the sheer creative problem solving he saw at her side, every day.

“Did you need me to help with anything?” He asked curiously. He was hovering a little too close, but he couldn’t help it. The way she wrinkled her nose? The slight furrowing of her brows. 

The tiny tip of her tongue sneaking out from between her teeth as she lined up the next seam to sew…

But, apparently, a busy Marinette with a needle found his proximity a little too distracting.

She reacted suddenly, pressing him back out of her space with a finger. There wasn’t a single thought or even the slightest hesitation in the action—at least, until she saw his face. 

Blinking, Marinette gasped loudly, stumbling backwards into her chair.

He caught her mid-spin. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” She nodded furiously. “Dunky horey!”

Smiling, he stepped back. “Sorry, Marinette. I really didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Marinette blanched, pressed her lips together firmly.

“I guess... I’ll just hang out over here until you’re ready for me?”

She blew out a ragged breath. “Sure…” Then, a little more desperately, she shook the exchange off, all the more determined to focus. 

Stealthily, he crept along the edges of her room, trying to puzzle out what he could possibly do that would appeal to her. 

His smile grew fond as he spotted the Lucky Charm he’d given to her sitting atop her dresser…

But he beamed brilliantly when he’d spotted one, pristine dried rose sticking out of the pages of a book…

His fingers ghosted over the cover, not daring to touch the now fragile petals. 

Adrien paused, glancing around more carefully. 

It wasn’t until his second circuit around the room that Adrien blinked, finding a bit of darker pink along the section of wall. He might have missed it entirely if he hadn’t been moving so slowly, soaking in every slight detail. “Did you have something up here before?” 

She shrugged, eyes pinched in a bit of annoyance. “I kind of redecorated.” 

He chuckled, to cover his contrite wince. He should have known after Chloé teased Marinette mercilessly that it would have been a sore point. “Oh… I guess my photo shoots have been getting a little repetitive lately.”

She scowled at him. “I didn’t _just _have photos from your modelling up, you know. There were plenty of other pictures of friends and all. You just rarely got to hang out, so I made a point of making sure you were included.”

He grinned. “I know. I just figured you’d post up some of your own work, too.” 

“Oh!” She breathed, taken aback.

“You have a lot to be proud of, Marinette.” It took a lot for him to stay still, when all he wanted to do was to draw closer to her. “Your creativity? It’s amazing. And even with my fashion emergency here, you’ve been way more than generous with your time and your gifts.”

Her cheeks darkened. Only this time, she didn’t dare look away. “Thank you, Adrien.” 

“I’d only mentioned…” Adrien shook his head, considering his next words carefully. “It’s just… I’ve been trying to persuade Father to give me a little more variety with the modelling. It’s bad enough that I keep getting pulled out of classes, but the photoshoots can be really tedious. I had much more fun that day with you and the girls, wearing _your _outfits. So, I know it _can _be better… I guess I’m just not sure what to ask him for.”

The continuous hum of the sewing machine died as the fabric stilled beneath her fingers.

“There’s never a break. Not really.” His shoulders drooped, wearily. “Father… doesn’t pay much attention to what I put on. I’m not sure he’s even noticed that I’ve worn the exact same outfit at three shoots in a row now.”

Her smile reached her eyes. “It does look nice on you.”

His own smile was strained as he peered back over his shoulder. “Thanks...”

“Though it is weird that it looks like he’s not noticing how you’ve gotten broader in the shoulders…” She shook her head. “I mean, with as tall as your Father is, you’ll probably gain a fair amount of height before you’re done growing… but your shoulders seem to be outpacing your height.”

He flushed, fingers ghosting against his neck. In that at least, she did notice. “Must be all the fencing… nearly everything else has me sitting in my room, practicing piano and Chinese in my of my free time.”

She lifted the shirt away from the bobbin, slipping it onto her lap. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play by yourself.”

Adrien’s smile was self-deprecating. “I’m no Jagged Stone. And I can barely hold a candle to the rest of Kitty Section. But if you need long, classical piano solos… I’ve learned far too many.”

“I dunno.” Marinette smiled softly, pulling the seams carefully between her fingers to test their strength. “Maybe someday, I’d like to hear it.”

“Really?” His smile brightened.

“Sure.” She coughed, hiding her face behind the sewing machine. “You know. With Alya and Nino and all…”

Adrien sighed heavily.

“But if it bothers you all that much, Adrien…” Her eyes grew a bit distant and thoughtful. “You should just find something to do that you find fun.” 

He shrugged, pacing back and forth before the window. “It’s hard to have much fun doing everything alone.”

“But maybe something _new _could be…” She trailed off. Her eyes, slipped over the fabric, inspecting his shirt for any wayward stitches. “Do you remember my Grandmother?”

“From your birthday?” Adrien grimaced, sure that was bound to bring up bad memories.

Instead, Marinette just nodded. “For a while, it was kind of a challenge seeing eye to eye with her. She definitely had her own ideas of what I should be doing… and of how we should interact with one another. It… took a bit of doing, to show her she was wrong about that. But I knew if I didn’t find some kind of common ground, things would always stay messy.”

“That… makes a lot of sense.” Adrien tilted his head. That was very much like the duet he’d had with this Father. And reaching out again like that might just work... _if_ he could actually get some time on his Father’s busy schedule.

He blinked, curiosity from her own little mystery finally sinking in. “What did you end up doing with your Grandmother?”

Marinette grinned, delight warming her sea blue eyes. “Motorcycle riding lessons.”

“So she rides a motorcycle? Your Grandma is so cool.” Adrien winced dramatically, feigning ignorance for the moment. “Of course, she… _was _a little scary on that motorbike.”

Her giggle was infectious. “Only while she was Akumatized. She’s actually always been really careful with me. Always had a helmet and extra pads on hand when she’s taken me on the bike with her. She knows it’s a big responsibility, and she wants to make sure I can drive and get around safely. She even promised that if I kept my grades up, she’d help me get a bike of my own for graduation.”

“I’m kind of jealous. That sounds awesome!” He beamed with a surge of pride—of certainty—that Marinette would definitely pull that promise off, no matter what life—and Hawkmoth—might throw at her. 

She smiled sweetly in return, standing up to hand him the mended shirt. “I’ve even been designing an outfit that might work… assuming I can keep that promise to her.”

Adrien continued to watch her carefully as she put away her machine, gaze trained directly at her now that her clever hands were a safe distance away from the sewing machine. “A motorcycle outfit? Have... _you _ever worked with leather?”

“Oh,” she breathed, airily. A hint of panic was evident in her eyes, but she turned quickly, remembering the last pieces of her sandwich and feigned interest in eating all of a sudden.

“Once or twice…” she said before quickly taking a bite.

“I’ve always imagined how cool it would be to own my own leather jacket…” Adrien said, a strange yearning in his voice.

“No offense,” She smirked, peeking back at him from behind her sandwich—far more confident than when she faced him head on, “but you don’t exactly seem like the type to wear leather, Adrien.” 

He pouted, narrowing his green eyes at her. “Oh, I don’t know. I bet I could pull it off.”

Her wry smile didn’t fade, even as he slipped the overshirt gently over his shoulders and into place. 

* * *

When he’d walked back to school side by side with Marinette, Adrien was irrationally happy. He’d slowed his pace, wanting to savor every spare moment with her that he could.

The one thing that made the afternoon even better was a surprise e-mail from Nathalie. It was far later than she usually checked up on him…

Which could only mean one thing; an updated photoshoot schedule.

And for once, he was ecstatic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art by [Yunyin](https://yunyin.tumblr.com/post/616666624621215744).


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very physical and emotional toll on me to get back into the swing of writing, especially on top of surgery recovery. It is still very surprising to me just how hard it is to push the muses to work, when you have to fight against the growing impression that all of your time and efforts are utterly wasted. 
> 
> Luckily, I've been surrounded by a number of very supportive writer friends who have helped drown out the poison of a few inconsiderate commenters. Big thanks in particular to Yunyin, Kellarhi, Enber, Runa, and a whole slew of people across several Discord servers who have acted very generously as an open and honest ear in all of this. Without all them and their unfailing support, I wouldn't be back here, slogging my way through the WIPs again.

Adrien grit his teeth, shuffling out of the makeup chair and towards the fountain in an all too familiar outfit.

It was hard not to be frustrated with his father. 

Sure, he _had technically _sent new clothes as promised. Except the ‘new clothes’ were just another pair of his signature orange shoes, and a different (stiffer) pair of his familiar blue jeans.

He had wanted—and hoped for—at least an outfit or two that might appeal more to Marinette.

But it was still the same old routine: a wistful pout, a faux smile,and windswept-looking hair that had enough product in it to ensure holding out against gale force winds.

All that effort for a _mostly _pretty pose, yet little more.

They’d even shot at this particular location more times than he could count.

Adrien scowled, fending off the ever-growing temptation to sink his fingers into his immaculately reinforced hair, ruining it entirely. _This _was just another boring old photoshoot—one he had lived through hundreds of times before.

“No, no, no!” His photographer, Vincent, sulked. “This is all wrong.” He peered suspiciously over at Adrien. “Did you eat week-old spaghetti?”

Despite himself, Adrien snorted into a chuckle. “Close… but not quite.”

“It wasn’t the _fille_, was it?” Vincent’s brows rose, letting his hold on the camera drop to waist level. “Lila, yes?”

Adrien winced, before he could plaster on a half-hearted smile. As if that _ordeal _hadn’t been bad enough. Although, if his photographer had managed to see through his false smile, there was a remote hope that the man might discourage future sessions with her.

At least Father listened to his professional opinion.

Adrien frowned. “Father still seems to think I’m all of twelve. I’ve seen enough shoots and photospreads to know that older models get to do things that are more, I dunno—”

“Fun?” Vincent’s brows rose, curiosity piqued.

Adrien’s shoulders fell. “I was going to say… impressive. But, yes.”

“Ah…” The photographer replaced the cap on his zoom lens before removing it from the body of his camera, and selecting a prime portrait lens instead. 

“It’s just…” Adrien breathed, eyes scanning the ground as he searched for the right words. “There’s this girl…”

“Isn’t there always?” The photographer smiled nostalgically.

Adrien shrugged. “No. Sometimes there is a boy, sometimes no one at all...”

Vincent beamed, gently patting Adrien on the shoulder encouragingly. “So there’s a young lady who has caught your eye. But Mr. Agreste, you are a model, no?”

“That…” Adrien smiled, “oddly doesn’t seem to matter to her.”

“Special girl…”

“She is.” Adrien flushed, studiously dodging the photographer’s too well-trained gaze.

“So… none of my photos have caught her attention, yet, yes?”

Adrien shook his head. “I mean… I know she’s collected pictures from Father’s collection. She’s got a bit of a talent for fashion design, after all.”

The photographer beamed. He’d been young and blind himself once… to anything that wasn’t in sharp focus outside of the camera’s lens. “Ah… then she has an eye as well.”

He sighed, smiling fondly. “She is _really _creative....”

“Then you want to capture her imagination, yes?” The photographer stroked his goatee. “Those creative types—they tend to get very focused, fussing and fretting until every detail is _just _so…”

Adrien nodded. “Father had promised something new. Something attention grabbing.” He scuffed his shoes against the pavement belligerently. “I don’t think a new pair of sneakers will be enough to do the trick…”

Vincent scoffed, pulling his camera back into place. “Hardly. But, if her creative imagination _was _engaged... then, perhaps her feelings—and the romance—might follow?”

Adrien smiled tenderly, tuning out the soft clicking of Vincent’s shutter. “I can hope, right?”

The photographer chuckled, changing his hold on the camera body. “I think we might be able to do a bit better than that.”

Beaming, Adrien’s eyes turned up to the skies, feeling the heavy weight of frustration lift free from his shoulders.

“Now, tell me—what sort of visual feast did you have in mind for _la bella_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am by no means an Italian speaker by any stretch of the imagination. If someone has a better translation suggestion for that ending bit, reach out to me on [Tumblr](https://overworkedunderwhelmed.tumblr.com/ask).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Enberlight for beta reading this one!

Marinette beamed, as she bounced up the stairs just before Principal Damocles shut the door. Things had been great. 

She had already wrapped up a commission two days ahead of schedule. She’d gotten to bed on time last night. She’d gotten a jump start on some of the homework due tomorrow. 

She’d even managed to have multiple whole conversations with Adrien over the past few days. 

Adrien had been in _her _room, and she’d mostly managed to keep her wits about her.

(To be perfectly fair, she hadn’t really expected Adrien to take off the shirt in front of her, let alone to get a sneak peek of his abs. Rationally, she knew it had to happen, but her poor hormones were _not prepared…_)

And if she’d had to scurry out of the room for a few precious moments just to save face and regain whatever composure she could for a few minutes...well, then so be it.

Smacking her cheeks, Marinette squared her shoulders, preparing to head off into battle… or, into the classroom at any rate. 

She smiled triumphantly. She knew she was ready. As Tikki had been reminding her daily, if she could handle her share of defending Paris from a myriad of monsters, then she could handle this. It didn’t hurt in the slightest that getting more into her “saving the day” frame of mind really had helped her feel far more at ease around Adrien.

Marinette inhaled sharply, smiling boldly as she took a steady step into the classroom.

For one joyous second, her gaze fleetingly locked with Adrien’s, before he turned with a grin, handing his phone off to Nino. 

“Dude!” Nino’s eyes widened. “Was this from this morning?”

“Yep!” The musical lilt of Adrien’s unrestrained laughter sapped most of her sure-fire confidence all at once, tempering it with incautious curiosity.

Blinking, Marinette dazedly shuffling through the last few steps into the classroom before she dropped down into her seat, thoroughly puzzled by the sudden antics from the boys seated in front of her.

Noticing she was floundering, Alya flashed her a reassuring smile.

Studiously, Marinette set down her bag and prepared for the first class, trying not to notice the rather lovely grin on Adrien’s face as Nino handed him back his phone.

“Not gonna lie, dude.” Nino nodded. “That’s pretty cool.”

“That’s what I thought.” Adrien beamed beatifically, drawing her gaze effortlessly. “Finally, finally… after all this time, I'm getting to do something a bit more fun…

Smirking, Alya leaned in. “Go on, then. Tell us all the deets. Or didn’t you bring enough of whatever you two are passing back and forth for the rest of the class.”

Adrien flushed slightly, his eyes darting quickly towards Marinette. 

She felt her cheeks warm under the scrutiny, even as his green eyes slipped back to Alya. “Sorry,” his fingers drifted up to the nape of his neck. “I really am mostly sworn to secrecy on this one. I’m lucky the photographers even let me keep this. ” 

“Not cool, Adrien.” Unimpressed, Alya crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes as she carelessly leaned back in her seat. “Friends don’t duck friends on scoops.”

Adrien sighed. “If it wasn’t related to my father's company, I probably could…” His eyes darted down as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “_Apparently_, marketing was in a big rush to drown out any possible bad press from the whole tight shirt debacle…” His eyes narrowed this time. “Word got out..._somehow_, but I guess Nathalie managed to quash it before any pictures were in the newspapers.”

Nino leaned back slightly in his chair. “But weren’t you wanting to do something different, anyways?”

“That’s the thing. After the last session, I was so _sure _that it wasn’t going to happen. That it might never happen...” 

Marinette gently set her head on her chin, marveling at Adrien as he beamed and practically lit up the room.

“What would happen?” Alya prodded.

“I…” His brows furrowed, a bit more sharply than she’d ever noticed before. “I can’t really say too much. But I will tell you this: My usual photographer brought in his brother, who he said was a bit more accomplished at action shots.”

“This is the same one who always talks about spaghetti?” Nino’s brows rose.

“Yes.” Adrien gently smirked, tapping his head pointedly. “He definitely likes to use his noodle.”

Marinette jaw dropped. It was hard not to… Her head slowly tilted in disbelief. Did Adrien just…? 

Nino groaned aloud for her.

Adrien only chuckled harder. “Thankfully, his brother is less a fan of pasta...more of the antipasto course… He kept saying it was good to look a little hungry...but ready to savor mama's meal.”

Paling, Marinette let her eyes dart away...to the safety of the world outside that was not immediately trying to make her combust. She didn’t know how...but she had to see these pictures.

Adrien grew silent for a moment, a soft smile curving his lips. “I guess I couldn’t escape the food metaphors entirely…”

Wait.” Alya blinked. “So you just had the first session this morning?”

He nodded, stowing his phone down into his bag. “It’s much too early yet for the full proofs but Nino just saw the one picture of a digital picture he let me keep and I’m really excited to see what he wants to do next. I promised Vincente I would only show my best friend until everything else was formally released...”

Nino flushed, fidgeting with his hat under the expected praise. “It looked good, dude.”

Adrien smiled. “Thank you!”

Alya’s mild irritation fizzled out as she watch Nino’s reaction in amusement.

Meanwhile, Marinette practically buzzed with anticipation. Of _all _the possible days to not have gotten in early, why did she have to have missed out today, when she might have been able to steal a quick peek at his phone? Her imagination was already starting to run rampant… What on earth was so groundbreaking about that photo that he had to be so secretive about it?

Alya seemed to sense the questions she couldn’t convince her mouth to ask. “Any idea when the pictures will come out?”

Shoulder’s slumping slightly, he wrinkled up his brows in thought, turning around to answer Alya directly. “I think he said the first magazine spread might be out next week? But…I should have my next photo session before then.”

“I hope you’ll be bringing in copies…” Alya sniffed.

Adrien chuckled, delighted. “One for each of you, hot off the presses. I promise.”

Marinette anxiously shifted in her seat as Madame Bustier entered the classroom to start the morning's lesson, wondering how she was going to possibly stay focused on the lesson at hand…

Nibbling anxiously at her lip, Marinette turned the whole of her focus onto the page, trying to remind herself fiercely that she’d promised Tikki she wasn’t going to _borrow _any more phones, no matter the cause.

She’d taken up a few pages of scattered notes, between the furious scribbles of all the wildest directions that this secret of Adrien’s might possibly entail, and the actual lesson plan.

If nothing else, it had distracted her from dazedly staring at his head for the whole of the lesson.

Of course, if she really had been looking at him enough, she might have noticed that she _wasn’t _the only one who was barely fending off distraction...


End file.
